When you pledge yourself to a building, make sure you read the fine print. Yes, I could have just let myself get absorbed into pure magic, but I decided to spend my limited existence staying here cleaning the Temple every Wednesday and doing public service. It was insulting, it was humiliating, and it was shameful. But at least I got discounts at select restaurants for being a servant of The Temple, so it could’ve been worse. 

Since I was put in the employment, or enslavement from my angle, of The Temple, I had been welcomed back into The Village. Not many people remembered me, and I don’t know if everyone knew what I had done, but they were kind to me regardless. I wasn’t used to it. The place had also changed so much since I left. Looked brighter than before, and with less faces that were scared of me. I saw dozens of other chimera variants running around, so I guess they fixed their little issue with us. Or maybe they’re more quiet about it now. Hell if I know. The only thing that kept people away from me now was my unshaved face before I shaved. I kept the mustache and goatee though; it felt nice. I think life up here with these people was making me soft.

Since I was back in the good graces of The Temple, there were a few other perks I guess. My immortality was still off the table, but at least the marble slab slowed my aging some more. And now that I was eating well, my magic was even fully stocked around the clock, not that I was much good at anything that wasn’t lethal. Though in my time off I have been getting lessons from a magic teacher. Apparently my ineptitude to learn magic when I was young was from this thing called a “learning disability”. More borrowed bullshit concepts from humans if you ask me. But I was also forced into rehabilitation therapy on Mondays, and chores for the Temple most other days, so not everything was luxury. On very rare occasions, The Temple actually had something serious that required me to go down to the Living and retrieve someone or enforce something, but it generally discouraged taking a life. I could happily bruise whoever I wanted to Hell and back to my heart’s content though. The therapist says that’s something we were working on.

It was a Friday though, so I was doing probably the most boring of all my commands by The Temple. I was instructing yoga in the park to the morning carvatian class. The entire class was made up of female carvatians that ranged from young single carvatians to middle-aged moms, to aged-looking grandma ones. A concerning amount was middle-aged moms though.

“That’s it for today, ladies!” I shouted. “Keep those wings stretched, and tails limber for next week.”

“See you next week, Gryft!”

“Take it easy on that wing, Lada.”

“You were great today, Gryft.”

“And you had great form, Hera.”

“Can’t wait for the next class, Gryft!”

“See you then, Lo’Vala.”

These women never failed to come to a class and I have no idea why. It was yoga in the park on a Friday morning. I would’ve been sleeping if I had the choice. Instead I had a couple dozen sweaty carvatian women in exercise clothing trying to cling to me while I taught them the slowest form of physical fitness. Maybe it was a life for some, but not me.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman sitting cross legged and just staring at me. She was in yoga pants and a sports bra, and looked very uncomfortable, and probably a bit self conscious. Despite coming every week, she never actually did any exercise though. I would write her off as just some ordinary person, she was the only carvatian I’ve seen around with an entirely metal wing though… I didn’t know for sure, but I think she was Iris, the caretaker of Heaven. What was she doing just taking Friday morning yoga though? Last time I saw a glimpse of her, she had a red wing instead of the magitech one. Must’ve had to hack the thing off or something.

Beside her was someone who actually did do the workouts every week, and was dressed similarly, but to be fair everyone was. Her blue hair and gray wings scratched something in the back of my mind. Like a distant memory… or a repressed trauma. She locked eyes with me for a moment, and I could tell she wanted to do something to me. I don’t know if it was violent or kind or what, but there was a fire in her eyes that I didn’t like. A fire that spelled trouble. My tail started curling up from the shivers I felt.

Curious, and not knowing when to walk away from trouble, I made my way over to those two who caught my eye. I had some time before The Temple needed me again, so I could make small talk. When they noticed I was getting close, the one with the prosthetic started looking more and more distressed, and the blue haired one got a progressively more sly smile. I decided to make first interaction by clearing my throat and raising my hand, a gesture I learned from my therapist as a good way to make a friendly first impression.

“Hello, you two.” I said.

“H-Hi…” the one sitting stumbled.

“What’s your-”

I didn’t even get to finish my sentence before I felt my left arm heat up, right where The Temple had put its mark on me. The brang glowed a bright white, and in seconds, I disappeared in a flash of white light. Sometimes I thought the sentient rock must have it out for me, but then occasions like these reminded me that it definitely had it out for me without a question. Probably because I’m the first person in centuries to make a building laugh. Lucky me.

*   *   *   *   *

When the flash of light died down, I was unsurprisingly inside The Temple itself. The inside was lined with statues and statues of carvatians of all different kinds. Well, except this one woman who had about a dozen statues of herself in there. These were all the winners of a contest we used to hold to determine our tribal leader before we didn’t have tribal leaders anymore. Now they just get a nice statue in The Temple. Wait… that women with a dozen statues in here was the same as-

“Gryft, you have been summoned!” boomed the voice of The Temple. 

Though, it sounded more like voices, plural, like a few dozen carvation men and women were talking all at once. There was something eerie about it. Even then, I didn’t let it get to me. I was too angry and fed up to get spooked anymore. I know this thing knows each and every one of my moves, and probably waits until the least convenient time to pull me out of what I’m doing. I pretty much had the same response to it each time.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I grumbled. “Alright marble slab, what’s so important that I couldn’t just walk here?”

“You lack patience,” it observed.

“I’ve got things to do.” I said. I didn’t really, but it didn’t know that.

“You do not.”

“I just finished yoga, so don’t lecture me about what little patience I have left.” I grumbled. 

“You forget your place.” 

I stayed silent and waited. I learned that The Temple was a lot like an eight year old child. If you just don’t give it a reaction, it’ll give up what it’s doing. I’m guessing since I dropped every ounce of formality with it, the thing didn’t feel like it had to give any back. Or maybe it was tired of having nobody to have fun with. Does sentient magic inhabiting a temple get lonely? I don’t know, but I sure was the outlet for it.

“You, Gryft, are to be the arranger and host of The Village’s Olympic Games.”

“Well can I, Gryft, get a day off?” I mumbled, not phased or pleased by the news.

“Do not make a joke out of this,” warned The Temple. “These are sacred games to the carvatian people, and you are to make sure they are hosted without incident.”

So I guess yeah, they were pretty important to our culture at some point. They were those games that I said determined our tribal leader before that was outdated. We call them the Village Olympics, taken after one of the important human sporting events. I think it used to be called The Village Games or something. I was never good at history, but it was something like that.

The games were generally made to measure physical, mental, and magical abilities of carvatians to see who was “the best” with heavy quotations. It was fun to watch at least, I could admit that. It always ended with a one-on-one duel between the final two carvatians. I even got there once in the one Olympics I participated in. Didn’t win though. Lost the tournament to…

“Do you understand the weight of this task placed upon you?” it asked angrily.

“Yeah, I’ve been in these before.” I said. “Nothing dangerous happens. What? You all afraid someone’s going to fall and skin their knee or something?”

The brand on my arm started to itch, then it felt like the thing was on fire. I dropped to my knees and let out a cry. Even without a face to see, I knew The Temple took smug satisfaction in that. When the pain died down, I got back up, clutching my arm.

“Do not disappoint us, Gryft. It would be terrible for you to fail your mission. The community would miss a pillar, and we would miss an excellent court jester.”

I walked out of the building without saying another word. Don’t think I needed to anyway. Pretty sure with the brand on my arm, it could even read my mind. At least I hope it was, because I was spitting out choice words up there.